Textures of Time - Exhibition Frederick Parker Gallery - Private View 7 April 2011
Text by Rianne Groen, Niekolaas Johannes Lekkerkerk and Catherine Y. Serrano
The artists presented in Textures of Time share a common interest in making temporalities tangible. Taking temporality as its point of departure, the artworks become agents in order to scrutinize or make palpable time’s various forms and modes of operation. The relation of art to temporality is often linked to the promise of eternity, and maintains a paradoxical relationship between the permanent object versus that of the experiential moment. Departing from this promise, the artworks here emphasize impermanence or allude to the instability of the present. As Boris Groys mentions in his essay Comrades of Time, “Contemporary art deserves its name if it manifests its own contemporaneity - and not simply if it is currently made or displayed.” One would not question how contemporary our contemporaneity is if the picture of the world were stable and well defined. Instability and uncertainty are characteristic of our time - the present ceases to be a point of transition from past to the future. Instead, present time is a site of continuous reflection and recurring iterations.
Without the confines and pressures of a termination point, the present can be perceived as autonomous, manifesting itself through numerous variations. Loop, repetition and recurrence problematize the way in which the conventions of time are understood. The loop implies sameness, a cycling and retracing over itself – the place of departure becoming that of the arrival. There is no diversion of paths, nor a change in conditions.
The nature of the loop and its infinite renewal produces a disorientating effect. This disorientation appears as a new place and time, making aware the limitations of our memory. Unable to replay instances as they originally occurred, memory is subject to the effects of repetition and relies tenuously on the security of that which has already existed. In contrast to loop and repetition, recurrence carries along the weight and detritus of the time lapsed; events and thoughts recur and accumulate new conditions. Informed by these passing intervals of time, the original moment is altered through recurrence – infinitely transgressing into new forms.
In Borges’ short story The Aleph, eternity is never one thing. By employing the Aleph, a device used to view the infinite, the eternity that the main character sees is millions of things at the same time. Borges has difficulty describing what he sees in the Aleph, “What my eyes saw was simultaneous; what I shall write is successive, because language is successive”. The description of the Aleph captures an exaggerated version of the varieties of time, a constant flux evolving around a moment.
Although the present may be regarded as an eternal loop from a cyclical perspective, the circle is not flawless. Fluctuations of time imply continuous change within the present; we can forward and rewind, freeze the frame, or slow down the image. The future is never newly planned; permanent changes in cultural trends and fashions make any promise of a stable future improbable. The past is also permanently rewritten, names and events appear, disappear, reappear, and disappear again. This cyclical phenomenon is subject to constant flux, while still moving in a circle. This constant change and passing of time has often been naively misinterpreted as a form of continuous progress and improvement. A new work of art becomes something else, existing within a new variety of time.
The subjective dimension of temporality posits the question of causality. Why do we experience variation in the perceived passage of time? Presumably, perceived duration is shaped by the interplay of self and situation. The self already constitutes many problematic aspects: we often seem to be the victims of temporality, but just as frequently we strive to control or manipulate it. Our experience of time encompasses both our desires and circumstances. One could argue that the combination of individual and external factors shape much of what we experience as the textures of time.
In the exhibition, the consideration of time and temporalities is enforced by means of artistic practice. The artworks included scrutinize both the tangible and material aspects, as well as actively engaging with various notions and tropes of time. Progressing from the formal aspect, temporalities are most of all experienced. To make this experience visible, the artworks within the exhibition space act as catalysts - making the distribution of the sensible possible.
These time-based artworks are not reliant on time as a solid foundation; rather, they document time that is in danger of being lost as a result of its unproductive character. This change in the relationship between art and time also changes the temporality of art itself, merely creating the effect of presence. Art begins to document a repetitive, indefinite, and perhaps an eternal present – a present that has always been and can be prolonged into the indefinite future. Hence, practicing literal repetition can be seen as initiating a rupture in the continuity of life by creating a non-historical excess of time through art.
Thursday 31 March 2011
N.B.K. Berlin - Karin Sander
The Sky is a Landfill
There is a hole in the ceiling. The whitish light of an office space shines through, creating a new version of an indoors Pantheon. Then slowly, instead of the expected sunbeam or occasional snowflake, a sheet of paper falls down. It ends its way on the floor, sitting snug between other sheets of paper. They are not just sheets of paper; there is no empty one to be seen. They contain information, often read, often wrong, discarded for several reasons. Among the species of paper are not only sheets, usually A4 size, but there are also other forms. The envelope is quite common, whether it is white, with a transparent window, or in eccentric occasions colored to stand out from the crowd. It comes in different sizes, made to contain several sheets of A4 sized paper, or invitation cards (often A5 sized). Some of the species are in a worse condition than others. While some sheets of paper have made the floor in an excellent condition, others have been torn before making their way down. This tattered condition reveals itself in different ways; torn from one side to another, or from the top to the bottom. Sometimes it is torn in both directions, in several small pieces.
These unfortunate papers are not always together anymore, but lie scattered amongst the other species. They contain words, maybe sentences; but are barely fragments.
In the worst case, papers are crumpled up. This expression of a failed attempt upstairs might be a typical utterance of the fear of the writer to discard his or her written text. It could also be an attempt of the occupier in the office upstairs to aestheticize his or her trash.
Several rare items can be found between the more common papers and envelopes. Items like magazines or boxes, formerly containing pastry, strepsils, or office supplies such as elastics, paperclips or staples. Unfortunately more personalized species from the world above seem extinct. Waste forms such as used tissues, chewed food or post-it notes are almost absent. It seems like the occupiers of the office above have been thinking about where their discarded items will end up; in a pile on the shiny gallery floor, for everyone to see. Another snowstorm of words will soon fall down; the sky is a landfill.
There is a hole in the ceiling. The whitish light of an office space shines through, creating a new version of an indoors Pantheon. Then slowly, instead of the expected sunbeam or occasional snowflake, a sheet of paper falls down. It ends its way on the floor, sitting snug between other sheets of paper. They are not just sheets of paper; there is no empty one to be seen. They contain information, often read, often wrong, discarded for several reasons. Among the species of paper are not only sheets, usually A4 size, but there are also other forms. The envelope is quite common, whether it is white, with a transparent window, or in eccentric occasions colored to stand out from the crowd. It comes in different sizes, made to contain several sheets of A4 sized paper, or invitation cards (often A5 sized). Some of the species are in a worse condition than others. While some sheets of paper have made the floor in an excellent condition, others have been torn before making their way down. This tattered condition reveals itself in different ways; torn from one side to another, or from the top to the bottom. Sometimes it is torn in both directions, in several small pieces.
These unfortunate papers are not always together anymore, but lie scattered amongst the other species. They contain words, maybe sentences; but are barely fragments.
In the worst case, papers are crumpled up. This expression of a failed attempt upstairs might be a typical utterance of the fear of the writer to discard his or her written text. It could also be an attempt of the occupier in the office upstairs to aestheticize his or her trash.
Several rare items can be found between the more common papers and envelopes. Items like magazines or boxes, formerly containing pastry, strepsils, or office supplies such as elastics, paperclips or staples. Unfortunately more personalized species from the world above seem extinct. Waste forms such as used tissues, chewed food or post-it notes are almost absent. It seems like the occupiers of the office above have been thinking about where their discarded items will end up; in a pile on the shiny gallery floor, for everyone to see. Another snowstorm of words will soon fall down; the sky is a landfill.
Friday 11 March 2011
Review - Lisson Gallery, SE8, Timothy Taylor
Rianne Groen
first published on www.metropolism.com
While the larger museums and institutions in London are busy determining who the most important British artists of the moment are (in exhibitions such as British Art Show 7 at the Hayward Gallery and Modern British Sculpture at the Royal Academy), commercial galleries take their chance of highlighting one of their represented artists in these shows. Haroon Mirza, whose work is currently at the Hayward, and Susan Hiller, currently at Tate, both get their chance in Lisson Gallery and Timothy Taylor Gallery. Next to the commercial galleries, some of the smaller institutions go their own way, as SE8 does with a collection of soundtracks made by artists.
Haroon Mirza - Lisson Gallery - on show until 5 March
In the first solo exhibition of the young artist in London, Haroon Mirza (1977) shows large installations with sound, light and video. The mixture of seeing and hearing is overwhelming when entering the gallery; not only do we see turning record players; we also hear the sound of the intentionally scratched record that is playing. A coin is bouncing on a speaker, and a string of little green lights is triggered by the music. Parts of the wall are covered with thick foam isolation material. Discarded household electronics, furniture and found video footage make up the installations. The gallery feels like a deserted studio space where a little boy has been messing around with the equipment.
Mirza describes the works as “unfolding compositions in time”, making the different installations become a larger musical work when walking through the gallery. The whole exhibition can be seen in parts, but can also end up evoking the feeling of a live performance by a progressive dj collective.
In group exhibitions, Mirza is very interested in curatorial concerns surrounding the effects that sound works have on other artworks, as can be seen in his work currently on show in the British Art Show at the Hayward Gallery. At Lisson, the gallery is truly Mirza’s domain, allowing his installations to develop in the best possible way, and become a grand musical performance.
The Half Shut Door
SE8, on show until 19 March
While sound and vision played an equal part in Haroon Mirza’s exhibition, the visual is completely absent in the exhibition The Half Shut Door at SE8 in Deptford. Thick black curtains have blinded the small space, and upon entering you cannot see anything. When your eyes slowly get accustomed to the dark, you can perceive a few black bean bags to sit on, and one stereo installation.
For this slightly unexpected non-visual art show, curators Nicolas de Oliveira and Nicola Oxley asked artists Hans op de Beeck, Dryden Goodwin, Stefan Brüggeman and João Onofre to create a soundtrack. Whereas a soundtrack is usually made to accompany a film, so to enhance the visual, in this case the usual gets inverted and results in sculptures of sound. The sound - sometimes pleasantly jazzy, sometimes no more than grey noise - develops in the dark space as almost being a new spatial material.
After a phase of being somewhat uncomfortable with the lack of physical work in the exhibition space, you grow accustomed to the experience of sound, as if our body is the sculptural.
Susan Hiller - Timothy Taylor Gallery, on show until 5 March
So much noise as the exhibition at SE8 makes, so quiet is it at Timothy Taylor Gallery in Mayfair. Accompanying her large survey exhibition currently on show at Tate Britain, Timothy Taylor presents, quite unsurprisingly, an exhibition with works by Susan Hiller. This does trigger the thought that the commercial gallery’s show is just on to satisfy selling demand of the now so popular artist. It can however also be an opportunity for a useful and modest addition to the more spectacular works on show at Tate. The small gallery show gives an overview of some of the recent works in Hiller’s oeuvre. The familiar aura photographs are there, as well as the fascinating Homage to Yves Klein series, but also a recent sculptural installation. Homage to Gertrude Stein (2010) is a vintage desk filled with books. Books about automatic writing, a subject that Stein as well as Hiller was very interested in. In all of her ‘homages’, Hiller seems to link the work of the person she is honouring to her own work, making that new connection into a fascinating imaginative relationship.
first published on www.metropolism.com
While the larger museums and institutions in London are busy determining who the most important British artists of the moment are (in exhibitions such as British Art Show 7 at the Hayward Gallery and Modern British Sculpture at the Royal Academy), commercial galleries take their chance of highlighting one of their represented artists in these shows. Haroon Mirza, whose work is currently at the Hayward, and Susan Hiller, currently at Tate, both get their chance in Lisson Gallery and Timothy Taylor Gallery. Next to the commercial galleries, some of the smaller institutions go their own way, as SE8 does with a collection of soundtracks made by artists.
Haroon Mirza - Lisson Gallery - on show until 5 March
In the first solo exhibition of the young artist in London, Haroon Mirza (1977) shows large installations with sound, light and video. The mixture of seeing and hearing is overwhelming when entering the gallery; not only do we see turning record players; we also hear the sound of the intentionally scratched record that is playing. A coin is bouncing on a speaker, and a string of little green lights is triggered by the music. Parts of the wall are covered with thick foam isolation material. Discarded household electronics, furniture and found video footage make up the installations. The gallery feels like a deserted studio space where a little boy has been messing around with the equipment.
Mirza describes the works as “unfolding compositions in time”, making the different installations become a larger musical work when walking through the gallery. The whole exhibition can be seen in parts, but can also end up evoking the feeling of a live performance by a progressive dj collective.
In group exhibitions, Mirza is very interested in curatorial concerns surrounding the effects that sound works have on other artworks, as can be seen in his work currently on show in the British Art Show at the Hayward Gallery. At Lisson, the gallery is truly Mirza’s domain, allowing his installations to develop in the best possible way, and become a grand musical performance.
The Half Shut Door
SE8, on show until 19 March
While sound and vision played an equal part in Haroon Mirza’s exhibition, the visual is completely absent in the exhibition The Half Shut Door at SE8 in Deptford. Thick black curtains have blinded the small space, and upon entering you cannot see anything. When your eyes slowly get accustomed to the dark, you can perceive a few black bean bags to sit on, and one stereo installation.
For this slightly unexpected non-visual art show, curators Nicolas de Oliveira and Nicola Oxley asked artists Hans op de Beeck, Dryden Goodwin, Stefan Brüggeman and João Onofre to create a soundtrack. Whereas a soundtrack is usually made to accompany a film, so to enhance the visual, in this case the usual gets inverted and results in sculptures of sound. The sound - sometimes pleasantly jazzy, sometimes no more than grey noise - develops in the dark space as almost being a new spatial material.
After a phase of being somewhat uncomfortable with the lack of physical work in the exhibition space, you grow accustomed to the experience of sound, as if our body is the sculptural.
Susan Hiller - Timothy Taylor Gallery, on show until 5 March
So much noise as the exhibition at SE8 makes, so quiet is it at Timothy Taylor Gallery in Mayfair. Accompanying her large survey exhibition currently on show at Tate Britain, Timothy Taylor presents, quite unsurprisingly, an exhibition with works by Susan Hiller. This does trigger the thought that the commercial gallery’s show is just on to satisfy selling demand of the now so popular artist. It can however also be an opportunity for a useful and modest addition to the more spectacular works on show at Tate. The small gallery show gives an overview of some of the recent works in Hiller’s oeuvre. The familiar aura photographs are there, as well as the fascinating Homage to Yves Klein series, but also a recent sculptural installation. Homage to Gertrude Stein (2010) is a vintage desk filled with books. Books about automatic writing, a subject that Stein as well as Hiller was very interested in. In all of her ‘homages’, Hiller seems to link the work of the person she is honouring to her own work, making that new connection into a fascinating imaginative relationship.
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